


Practice

by JeanJacquesFrancois



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanJacquesFrancois/pseuds/JeanJacquesFrancois
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loras pushes his curls off his face better to stare at him. "Have you had many kisses Renly?"</p><p>"Enough," Renly laughs. The turn of the conversation towards himself is unwelcome but Renly does not shy away from Loras' gaze. He is not required to tell him all, just enough, and it shall not pass through his lips that his kisses have all been shared with other men.</p><p>"Can you show me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice

It's one of those wet, rainy days in Storm's End, and Renly pulls his cloak tightly around his chest to shelter himself from the wind as he makes his way back from the stables. He slows his pace when he passes by the old willow tree that stands just outside the castle inner walls, amused when he sees a couple standing beneath its branches, holding hands as they shelter from the storm. It's not unusual to see a pair of lovers there- perhaps a knight kissing a blushing maiden, or one of the grooms with a chambermaid- but as Renly gets closer, he finds himself a little surprised, taken aback even. This time, it's different. It's different because it's Loras stood under the canopy of leaves. He has a young maid with him, her hands entwined with his as she looks up at him.

He’s just past his twelfth name day and Renly supposes he ought not to be surprised. As much as it always seemed it would be the case, his squire, with his boyish smirk and his bouncing curls, cannot be a child forever. It's the way everything must take, and Renly knows that change cannot be halted, or dammed as a river might be. Still, it's strange; Renly has always imagined that Loras should forever want to run, and play, and drag him into games that Renly himself is far too old for.

Quietly, Renly does his best not to stare and leaves them to it.

 

* * *

 

It’s not unusual that Loras comes to his bedchamber late at night but tonight he seems changed. His squire is hesitant; he pushes open the door with less of his careless arrogance, less haughtiness. In the candlelight, Renly searches his face. He wonders if he should see a young man in front of him instead of the boy Renly thinks of Loras as, but he appears as he ever does. His eyes are still wide with a childish innocence that Loras has never truly possessed, his cheeks still plump and unblemished, and he stands before Renly as he always has done.

“Renly,” Loras’ voice betrays none of his intentions. "Can I come and sit with you a while?"

“If you like,” Renly laughs, even though it's late and Loras really ought to be in bed. He's curious and he wonders if Loras' late night visit has anything to do with the girl he saw him with earlier. Indeed, if he looks closely, he can see a faint blush creeping into Loras' cheeks and down his neck, disappearing under the white cotton of his small clothes.

“I know you saw me earlier,” Loras tells him as he sits down, tucking his legs underneath him and fixing Renly with a stare so brave that Renly would think it impudent if he saw it on the face of one of his bannerman. As it is, though, it's Loras, and Renly has never had cause to find fault with him or discourage him in his brazenness.

“She was very pretty,” Renly smiles, thinking back to the soft curve of the girls' breast and her sweet, delicate features; all things that he himself finds no desire in. “Does she please you?”

Loras doesn’t answer. “She wants me to kiss her,” he confides instead. He bites down on the corner of his lip as he often does when deep in thought.

“And do you not want to?” Renly gently presses. He feels he is ill-equipped to help Loras here, but he does not have the gall to turn him away, to tell him to ply somebody else with his questions. Loras is _his_ friend, it has always been so, and Renly will do his best for him. 

“No, it is not a problem of wanting, I don’t think. It's a problem of _knowing_."

"Of knowing?" Renly questions, and then the pieces fall into place. His squire is proud, too proud too put his hand to anything that he is unsure of succeeding in. What Loras endeavours in shall always be done perfectly, Renly knows. Whilst that which cannot be done in such a way shall usually not be attempted at all. Kissing his lady friend shall be no different, for that is Loras' way, his nature so to speak, and for a boy of but twelve, he is remarkably set in those ways. 

Loras pushes his curls off his face better to stare at him. "Have you had many kisses Renly?"

"Enough," Renly laughs. The turn of the conversation towards himself is unwelcome but Renly does not shy away from Loras' gaze. He is not required to tell him all, just enough, and it shall not pass through his lips that his kisses have all been shared with other men. 

"Can you show me?" Loras' eyes are wide and innocent, as if he doesn't see anything wrong with the words that have just slipped out of his mouth.

"What do you mean, show you?" Renly laughs with the incredulity of it all. 

Loras edges closer, moving up the bedspread towards him as a lion might inch towards its prey. "I mean, can you not show me? Could you not let me practise?"

"No," Renly tells him firmly. "I can't." He wonders, though, if his answer might have been different had he been like other men, if he might have indulged Loras had his desires been orientated differently. 

"Well why not?" Loras frowns and folds his delicate hands in his lap. "I shan't tell anyone, and I don't wish to be a disappointment to her."

Renly just holds his tongue, because the gods forbid that his squire should ever be a disappointment to anyone. Loras should die from the shame of it. Indeed, Loras already looks displeased, his face screwed up into such a sour expression that Renly sincerely hopes the wind won't change. 

He sighs as he watches him, the last of his resolve melting slowly away. He supposes after all that it is selfish to deny a boy of two and ten his whims. "Come closer then," Renly tells him. "And you shall not breathe a word of this to anybody, not even the gods."

He waits until Loras is sitting cross-legged in front of him, so close that if Renly leans forward their noses will be touching. He's been this close to Loras before, closer even, and yet this is different from the easy intimacy that the two of them have always enjoyed. Renly has always looked upon Loras with nothing but fondness and affection, and Renly wonders whether, when he leans in and lets Loras kiss him, regardless of how innocent his intentions, whether that fondness shall be fanned into something altogether more dangerous. It's hard to believe it now, when he still is struck often with the desire to pinch Loras' cheeks like he might do a babe, but he is beginning to realise now that Loras shall not be a boy forever. He shall be a young man within a year or two, and Renly supposes that he shall look at him as he might look upon any handsome young man. It's a miserable thought.

"Can I then?" Loras asks softly, his breath already warm against Renly's cheek. He rocks forward slightly, tilting his face up towards Renly's. He doesn't sit quite tall enough to be able to reach Renly's lips with his own though, and so Renly bends for him.

It's sweet the way Loras presses his lips against his. It's soft and delicate and Renly imagines that boys have kissed their mothers less chastely. He was wrong to have fretted.

"Was that all right?" Loras asks.

"Yes," Renly tells him with a smile. "I think she shall like that."

 

* * *

 

Loras is just shy of fourteen when he asks the next time, and he scowls when Renly tells him no.

"But you did before," he complains, pacing around Renly's bedchamber in a sulk even though he shall soon be knighted. "What has changed?"

Everything has changed, Renly thinks. Loras has changed, and as he had foreseen, the way that he looks at Loras has changed. It is impossible now not to see a young man in front of him, regardless of the childish way in which Loras stomps moodily about his chambers, displeasure evident in every step, as if he can take his disappointment out on the stone floor. 

"Please," Loras asks him, and 'please' is an unusual word to come out of Loras' mouth. "You didn't even kiss me properly last time."

Renly laughs at that. "Yes, but who do you wish to please now?"

"Never you mind." Loras says, putting his nose in the air as if the question offends him. "Just let me practice. You made it seem so easy the first time, but that's not how anybody kisses at all, and you knew it."

"How would you know?" Renly teases, not moving from his writing table. His words evidently displease Loras and he scowls once more, kicking at the edge of the rug irritably. 

"I'm not a child," Loras protests as he crosses the room. Putting two strong hands around Renly's wrists, he pulls him to his feet and pushes himself closer. "Now show me how it's done."

It's an order and Renly sighs at how impudent he has let this boy become. He has ignored the warnings his household have given him, waved away Ser Cortnay's words when his castellan told him that he has raised a brash, insolent boy under his roof, and now it has come back to bite him. 

"Why don't you show me then how you think it ought to be done then," he relents, placing a hand on Loras' shoulder. He watches with amusement then as Loras pushes his face closer, forcefully, as if he's sure Renly might change his mind. One hand settles on Renly's hip and Renly duly bends for a kiss. It's not soft this time, and Loras is evidently trying to emulate what he has seen others do. He pushes his mouth hard against Renly's and it's not in the slightest bit pleasant.

"Well Loras," Renly laughs once Loras has pulled away. "I shan't lie to you. That was truly terrible."  
  
"Terrible?" Loras' brow furrows and the scowl is creeping back onto his face. For a boy who is used to constant praise and admiration, this is probably the first time that he has ever been told such a thing, and indeed Loras' face betrays how insulted he is. 

"Truly," Renly tells him. He moves his hand down to Loras' waist and pulls him gently back to him.  "You need to be gentle, Loras, _soft_. It's not a joust. You need to work with your partner, not against her." He knows that this will be a stretch for his squire, who lives for competition, for the thrill of bettering an opponent. He imagines too that when Loras makes love to a woman, he shall do so as if trying to conquer her. There shall be no gentle caresses, no apparent love, only a fervent desire to prove his strength. 

"Gentle," Loras echoes. "Soft. I can be that." He doesn't sound confident in his words and he has reason for this. There is nothing gentle about his squire, Renly thinks, nor soft. He is all hard lines, taught muscles coiled underneath silky skin. The only thing soft about him is his hair, and Renly reaches out to touch a lock of it, liking how the light catches it as he rolls it between his fingers.

Renly bends once more for him and Loras tries again. He's mildly gentler, but still Renly has to brace himself to keep from stepping back with the force of it. 

"Shh," Renly hushes him gently. "I'll show you how you ought to do it."

Loras looks like he is about to say something back to that, but then he hushes, holding his tongue with evident difficulty. 

Renly smiles as he cups a hand around the back of Loras' neck and tilts his face up towards his again. The fractional movement bathes his squire's face in the golden light that's streaming through the windows and Renly sighs at how beautiful he has grown up to be. He's lost the roundness from his cheeks, and in the sunlight, the amber flecks in his eyes melt into pools of liquid gold that Renly wants to lose himself in. It's a face that Renly sees each morning and one that becomes more beautiful with each passing day. Gently, he tilts Loras' head to the left, to demonstrate how he should hold himself. Loras looks oddly curious like that, and Renly smiles at the sight before he leans in and closes what little distance there is between them.

He kisses Loras gently with an open mouth and relishes the small little sigh that escapes from Loras' lips. It's a soft, sweet sound, one that suits him ill. It's a while before Loras returns the kiss and when he does, it's tentative, hesitant, and he lets Renly guide him as if Renly's earlier criticism is still ringing in his ears. He places his hands first on Renly's shoulders, awkwardly, until Renly takes his palms gently in his own and slips one into his hair and settles the other around his waist. He seems to know what to do after that, and he knots his fingers in the coal black strands of Renly's hair with his usual confidence. He even traces tiny little circles against Renly's back with his other hand, surprisingly soft touches which are warm even through the thick velvet of Renly's doublet.

It is with reluctance that Renly pulls away. Loras' lips are still slightly parted and his hands hang awkwardly in the air for a brief moment before he regains his composure.

"There you go," Renly tells him softly, waving him out of his chambers. 

 

* * *

 

"How did you fare with your lady friend?" Renly asks Loras the next morning as Loras steals into his room just after dawn and begins to lay out Renly's clothes for the day. Often Renly sleeps as Loras works but today, fulfilling his curiosity seems more appealing, and so Renly sits up and takes a bite of the buttered bread that Loras has already set out for him by his bedside.

Loras finishes the task at hand before he deigns to reply. "Well enough," he says and he sits himself promptly down on the bed beside Renly. "But could you show me again? Just to practise."

He doesn't wait for an answer and tilts up his face expectantly, so wanting that Renly cannot help but bend his head to kiss him again. He's less hesitant this time and he needs no encouragement to put his hands in Renly's hair and part his lips under Renly's. It's only when the tip of Loras' tongue brushes tentatively against Renly's bottom lip that Renly realises Loras is drawing at least some pleasure from their embrace. He kisses him as he might kiss any lover then, their tongues dancing as Loras follow's Renly's lead and parts his lips further to let Renly explore what his squire's mouth has to offer him.

They end up with Loras on Renly's lap, his body solid and warm against Renly's as they finger tentatively at each other's clothes, slipping the occasional warm hand across cotton-covered skin, their mouths still hungry for one another. They kiss until their lips are sore and bruised, and until Renly has to think that Loras has had quite enough practice for the day.

Nothing is said when they part, and Loras slips into bed beside him as he sometimes does in the evenings. He curls up to go to sleep even though the room is all but ablaze with the morning light. His hair is soft on the pillow next to Renly, fanned out underneath him like a skein of silk and Renly longs to touch it as Loras has let him do all morning. The moment has passed though, and he pins his hands at his sides and makes himself face away from the beautiful boy next to him. He spends the rest of the morning staring at the wall of his chambers, listening to the gentle sound of Loras' breathing, imagining the soft rise and fall of his squire's chest.

 

* * *

 

When Loras climbs atop his lap the following morning and pushes himself close under the blankets, Renly shakes his head. "It's wrong," he laughs softly, slipping his hand about Loras' slim waist all the same. "We ought not."

Loras scowls as always. "It's only practice," he repeats. "-for when we both have lady wives of our own."

And so Renly relents. He relents the next day too, and the day after that. He relents until it's clear that Loras isn't practising anymore.


End file.
